


don't threaten me with a good time

by marrythemonsters



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cane Porn, F/M, POV Second Person, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold's Cane, Snippets, feel free to read as rumbelle, the 2nd person could literally be anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrythemonsters/pseuds/marrythemonsters
Summary: The gentleman with the cane catches you staring at him. "Keep staring, dearie, and I'll shove it up your--"
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	don't threaten me with a good time

You're sitting at the bar of an upscale hotel. You're not on the hunt, exactly, but you're not _not_ on the hunt. He catches your eye immediately, as soon as he walks into the room.

You've never seen anyone move so gracefully with a cane. It's as if it's part of him, an extension of his body. He's not tall, but you sense power in the air that he displaces.

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," the bartender greets him.

Gold. Like the knob of his cane, which he fingers absently now as he sits, staring into the middle distance.

Suddenly he turns to you with a cruel light in his eye. "Keep staring, dearie, and i'll shove it up your cunt."

You flush. You hadn't thought he'd noticed you. Usually you're more subtle than this.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you murmur through your initial embarrassment. You were going to come on to him eventually anyway, might as well roll with it.

He raises an eyebrow, assessing you. "Wouldn't have pegged you for that particular kink," he says in a voice that is rough but not low, lightly accented. Scottish, you think.

"Oh, I'll try anything once," you smirk. "But I didn't mean the cane. It's your face I was staring at. Is that not what you were offering to...er, shove up my cunt?"

It sounds so bald in your american accent, so raw. Not at all like the offhanded, only slightly filthy edge it had in his scottish lilt.

His eyes narrow, as if trying to decide if you're serious or not. Or maybe just if he's interested. You know you're a bombshell - you always come to this bar dressed to slay. Young, curvy, with a flirty smile that somehow telegraphs both "smart as a whip" and "walking daddy issues."

But you have no way of knowing if that's his thing. Maybe he's married, or maybe he's some self-hating righteous twat who won't go for younger women because Morals, or maybe he's just gay because GODS above, this usually works.

Finally he huffs a little laugh, turns, and glides away with that elegant loping limp.

"Follow me if you dare, dearie," he tosses over his shoulder.

Oh, he has no idea what you dare. You knock back your drink, and you follow.

**Author's Note:**

> for now, just a snippet of a daydream i had that i wrote for a friend. if you're very nice to me i might follow up with More.


End file.
